Pretty Monsters
by Killing Lies
Summary: Drabble Challenge. One hundred drabbles. Multiple pairings, both Het and Slash. Non-continuous. K to M ratings. Possible Pairings: HPDM, HPGW, HPSS, RWHG, RLSB, etc. Requests open. "Pretty Monsters would take me to places of wonder."
1. Serious

**Serious**

The end was near -- it was tangible in the air. The taste stuck to his tongue and for a second, he thought he was forever going to taste this moment. Death lay around him, the eyes of the deceased staring at nothing.

This battle was serious for both sides. One must win; one must suffer a great loss.

Harry stood tall in front of Voldemort -- this moment was what his entire life had built up to. He felt the eyes of classmates and Order members as he stood before the snake-faced Dark Lord. Their eyes taunted him forward, yelling in their minds to destroy the thing that had destroyed his life.

His face pulled into a sneer, thinking of the life he had wasted on the man before him.

He fired the killing curse, and the room fell silent.


	2. Celebration

**Celebration**

When Harry was at the legal wizarding age to drink, he did so with fervor. Drink after drink, he sat at the bar. He had Hermione and Ron beside him, both having been of legal age months before him.

They celebrated for many things that night: the defeat of Voldemort, the marriage of Ron and Hermione, Harry's own engagement to Ginny, and the happiness they felt thanks to their strong friendship.

By the end of the night, Harry was so drunk he could barely stand on his own two legs. He giggled and acted silly; he reacted to things Ron or Hermione said in a loud and brash way. Hermione sighed, rolled her eyes and told Ron to deliver him safely back home before she apparated to the Burrow.

"Come on, mate, let's see if Ginny will take you in for the night." Ron hefted Harry onto his shoulder with some trouble, before apparating to Ginny's small apartment. While Harry and she were still engaged, Harry thought it best for them not to live together. He still had things he needed to take care of at Grimmauld Place – places where the wood was eaten through by termites; dust an inch thick in some places where Kreacher refused to clean.

Ron knocked on the door, watching lights flicker on in the house almost automatically, and smiled at his sister as she opened the door. He flung Harry onto her, laughed out a "Now he's yours!" before apparating back to his home and to Hermione who was waiting for him in bed.

"So this is what you do when I tell you I'm pregnant. Good thing I didn't mention they were twins!" Ginny giggled with a warm smile stretching across her face.


	3. Ending

**Ending**

Hermione had a love-hate relationship with books. Don't get her wrong; she loved books a lot -- she'd probably die reading them. It was just that. . . well, you see, she wasn't one for endings.

Romantic, sad, horrible endings; it didn't matter how it happened, but it was _the end_. It was final. There was never to be more – unless it was a series, but even those had to end.

Books could never leave her -- not like Viktor, not like her "friends", and not like her ex-husband Ronald Weasley.

Endings were never anything to celebrate, and _never _something to smile about.

She sat crying in her library, the only thing that would stay with her forever; a never-ending relationship.


	4. Oath

**Oath**

Blood oaths were not common among pureblood bloodlines.

They were strong; physically and magically binding.

These oaths were only created in acts of desperation -- in life or death situations, and death did not seem like a path one would want to follow.

So when Voldemort had come to him, offering up a truce – a pure blood oath – he had accepted. It was a means to an end, at least at that moment, and he needed that if nothing else.

Harry was foolish to believe that the Dark Lord would keep his word, even through binding magic. Harry realized that now he was years too late in saving the world, and years too young to make any difference.


	5. Escape

**Escape**

The body he rubbed against – hot skin, sweat smelling of pine trees and something beastly – was only for him. He bucked, sucked, licked and did anything he could to the body under him.

He could escape from the world here, with this man. The man that was _born _for him. From his love's and her husband's loins came this beautiful boy; this boy who was the savior of the wizarding world.

He smirked as Harry whined and mewled, begging for anything that he could give the young boy. He shoved deeper into the emerald-eyed boy, kissing soft passionate kisses to the lightning bolt scar.

"Mine . . ." he whispered, breath heavy and panting.

"Yours," was the reply.


	6. Moment

**Moment**

Ron sat beside Luna, sighing as she ecstatically talked about Thestrals and some sort of worm. He snorted and ignored her, instead focusing his attention on Hermione, who was talking to Neville.

"So I told Snape he could suck a hippogriff and stormed out. I was rather proud of myself until he chased me down and gave me a week's worth of detention, and by then –"

Ron rolled his eyes, turning to say something to Harry before snapping back around to Neville, shouting out, "Wait a moment –!"

Neville smiled before stating quite happily, "April Fools, mate."

Ron's mouth resembled a fish for quite awhile.


	7. Typical

**Typical**

Harry and Draco are in another fight, which is typical. They're throwing hexes at each other, while throwing jabs and kicking and clawing. In my opinion, they're worse than girls.

Even _Ron _has the ability to see the unresolved sexual tension between my friend and the Malfoy prat. Ron, who had difficulty accepting that I had any sort of interest in him. _That _Ron.

"Will you boys just get a room? McGonagall and I are getting very tired of breaking you two apart, and it's awkward when we have to get in between your bloody lover quarrels," Snape snapped as he grabbed Draco and McGonagall grabbed Harry.

"We aren't –" both began to say, before glaring at the other. "Stop copying me! No, you're the –!"

"I'll get you one day, Malfoy!" Harry spat, turning on his heel with McGonagall's hand still gripping his upper left arm tightly.

Snape had Draco in the same hold, muttering curses at Harry as well as at his young ward.

"Typical boys," I sighed, shaking my frizzy hair and walking with Ron to my next class. "They never change, do they?"


	8. Genie

**Genie**

When Harry was little, he would overhear his Aunt tell Dudley bedtime stories. Usually they were about a Prince, with beautiful blonde hair and who was a bit plump, who would rescue the beautiful princess. Her name would change every few nights, according to Dudley's preferences of course, but she was always beautiful and the Prince _always _got her in the end.

Harry was most interested in the only story that wasn't about a prince or beautiful princess.

"Once upon a time, there was a genie that was trapped in a lamp. He was a young man who was tricked by a horrible wizard – the nasty man – and the genie would only come out when someone rubbed the lamp three times. The Genie, who was always known as the Genie and just that, would grant only three wishes – any three you could think of – and was invisible to everyone but the possessor of the lamp.

"One day, a young man came across the lamp and wished for three things in a row. He wished for a beautiful woman, whose name was as beautiful as her. The second wish was for great friends, who would protect each other no matter what it took. For his last wish, he wished for a beautiful son with the eyes of his love and the heart of a lion.

"Of course, the man could not know the Genie's wishes always came with a price. After the Genie granted these three wishes, he disappeared forever to the man. The man, still not knowing of the curse these wishes would eventually give him, lived peacefully for almost a year.

"In the end, the wishes fell apart. A Dark Lord killed both husband and wife, destroyed the friends' lives, and cursed the young son. The young son lived on, a hero to everyone, but was forever cursed to live with and be surrounded by people that would never truly love him."

Harry would eventually cry himself to sleep.


	9. Sick Muse

**Sick Muse**

Harry was never right after Sirius Black passed through the veil. Of course, everyone knew he would always be plagued from another death but they pushed it past them, and left it be. What could they do for the savior of the wizarding world when they themselves could not even stop a man from falling through a magical curtain?

Years passed and people married and died. People loved each other then backstabbed their lovers and ended up with someone far worse. Some could not stand one way of living, and decided to move on without it. Harry decided he didn't need the light anymore because it had done not one cent of goodness towards him. All the light had done for him was rip apart his family and friends. Harry changed and turned into a dark lord.

He smirked when he made his first horocrux. He had killed Ron and Hermione with _that _killing curse – the one both his parents were killed by. The one that Voldemort had used to destroy his life and the people he loved.

The Order did not know of the horocrux and neither did the government. The deaths were a sad thing, yes, but it was just blamed on one death eater or another. As more deaths resulted – the Weasley family murdered in the dead of night, Neville Longbottom and Luna Longbottom-Lovegood killed in bed – the blames all just moved to ex-death eaters and innocent bystanders that were just at the wrong place and time. As the blame passed from one person to another, Harry grew stronger and darker while his horocruxes grew in numbers and in power.

Harry laughed manically as he threw the dead body of Draco Malfoy out the Astronomy Tower. He had asked _Professor _Malfoy to visit him in the tower. It was important; he had told his ex-lover.

His ultimate horocrux was finally completed and as he stared at the crumpled body of his lover lying in the wet grass, his eyes shifted to the bleeding moon. It hung low in the sky tonight, a sick muse for Harry's evil comportment.


	10. Will

**Will**

Harry was not surprised a few years after the Dark War was over that he would be called in for many people's last will and testaments. He was The Boy Who Lived; people admired him and wanted him to live like a "hero". Of course most of the things he inherited during these wills went to charities and orphanages – he didn't need the money and who else needed them but the poor and the orphaned?

He never once thought to visit these places because he would only be thanked as a "hero" and he really wasn't. After all, he had killed the only person he had ever loved during that last battle.

Months passed by and slowly he was called into Griphook's office less and less. For this he was happy, but to know that the Ministry was pushing through these peoples deaths so quickly disheartened him. Their families should deserve time to mourn – like the Weasley's. The death of Fred hit them hard; Tonks and Remus were also mourned. Pictures and candles lit their living room of the three, all of them smiling from the happiness the afterlife gave them.

Harry mourned all the people lost: Fred, Tonks, Remus, Hedwig, Mad-Eyed Moody, Snape, and Dobby . . .

When Harry was called into Griphook's office for what must have been the millionth time, he had not expected to see a projection of Tom Riddle Jr. standing next to Griphook who had a will in his hands. Harry sat down heavily, waiting as to what Tom's will would instill for him.

"I am in no way being coerced to write this under any form of curse and or potion. I am sane in mind, body and magical being. This document shall stay sealed until the death and or missing person's case relating to myself, Tom Riddle Jr.

"To my beloved, Harry James Potter, if you are reading this than it's most obvious you've defeated me. We both knew it had to happen and it saddens me to think that I wasn't strong enough to defeat you. The thought of you living without me, to move on and marry and love again does twist my heart in the most uncomfortable of ways. However, I am dead so I wish for you to continue on as you would have if this relationship never started."

The will went on to state the properties he held and the fortunes he would pass on only to Harry. Nagini was listed as a possession to be given if not killed and Harry let out a breath that the damned snake _was _dead; what would he say to his friends when he walked around with a huge snake following him which had once belong to their worst enemy?

Harry cried during the end, because he knew that when it was finished being read by Tom he would never hear or see the man again. He knew this, but he listened on to Tom telling him to move on, follow the _hero _path and become something Tom never could.

Standing and moving out of the office, Harry decided to smite Tom and become everything he was told _not _to be.


	11. Brick

**Brick**

Ginny grew up with the story of Wizard of Oz. She wondered why the Green wizard had to _act _like a wizard when she was fairly certain that he just did not want to accept his wizarding heritage. It wasn't until later in life when things began to change in her life – her crush on Harry Potter, Chamber of Secrets, and disaster after disaster – which she understood why that man hid behind a screen to act mighty.

She walked down the London cobble-stoned streets until she came to a solid brick wall. She imagined it opening to show a yellow brick road, like the one in the Wizard of Oz, and pressed her wrinkled hand on the wall. Almost after a hundred years she could master this type of magic; a magic not even Harry Potter could do.

Neville would miss her; her family would mourn over her like they had over their parents two decades ago and Fred almost a century ago. Harry and Hermione would lament with the family; Harry soul-mated to George almost half a century ago, while Hermione had married Ronald right after the Final Battle.

She sighed as the bricks reacted to her magic, another world twisting into creation. She knew there would be a yellow brick road ahead, a green city and a lollypop guild; there would be no Neville, the love of her life, to come back to. Her family would be out of her life for the rest of forever.

Ginny Weasley buried her own thoughts and walked to that castle where the Wizard would finally learn of his magic.


	12. Heartache

**Heartache**

Sometimes I think that the heavens have given me this power to rule, to kill and maim and destroy all life. Other times I think they gave me this power to smite me; to show me how lonely I _really _was and how lonely I will _always _be.

I call this power – this darkness – my hell. This power that controls me, no matter what I think, no matter how innocent a thought it is, it will always turn evil and rot away in my head.

It was a mistake to take on love; to take on the only thing I could never have my hands on.

It resulted in more hatred, and more death and nothing now could stop the train of domino's I had set off.

I am the Dark Lord, so all these miscalculated variables should not be happening. I am in control; forever. I will not be thwarted by a mere boy.

A mere boy who, no matter how much I say I don't care, I can only think: 'As long as he has that strong emotion of hatred, it's that much closer to love'.

And no matter how many people I kill or torture, the only thought is that all this hatred directed towards me is only a thin line away from love.

I am the most loved person on Earth, and will forever stay loved.

Loved most by my worst enemy – my worst heartache.


	13. Demons

**Demons**

Fenrir had a lot of demons hidden away in his mental closet. There were large demons: evil things that even he knew not how they got there, only that they were in him now and would forever stay there. There were small demons who weren't as bad; little demons that were made of guilt and senseless pride and sometimes remorse over killing a wolf in his pack only because it was necessary.

Greyback was a strong werewolf and that was not questioned; other wolf tribes would love to join his pack, but he only accepted the _strongest _and _purest. _If an impure joined his group, he would have lost all he had worked up for during his human and non-human life.

He understood that Remus Lupin would never make it as a true werewolf, but he turned the young man anyways; he held no remorse for it afterwards, but he knew somewhere there was a guilt-demon gnawing away at his soul.

Fenrir Greyback was a demon and he was treated as so. The demons in his mind haunted him like one and the people he allied himself with treated him like one as well.

It wasn't until he met Percy Weasley that he understood a kindness and pureness he could only dream of.

He had bit the older Weasley child during a small encounter two years before the Great Battle but had not heard of anything. So either he had died during those years or kept it top-secret, even from his parents.

Upon seeing him on the battle field, helping the light side, Fenrir understood why he had not heard a thing about the younger werewolf. Percy glowed in a strange light as he fought in his wolf body – a pure white light that almost purified the demons the wolf-spirits shadowed the human soul with.

Fenrir growled loudly, wanting to taint that light; he attacked with such vigor he forgot of the world around him and only focused on this young man.

Two hours passed and Fenrir lay bloodied on the ground as Percy stood above him, intestines sliding from his mouth and his muzzle covered in dried and fresh blood. The ooze stunk of corpse and Fenrir understood that it was _his _blood and intestines Percy held; coveted like a new possession.

As Fenrir lay dying, he understood why Percy was protected with that white light and Fenrir shuddered at the "could have been"'s.

He watched as his life slowly slipped from his dirty and torn body as Percy slowly made his way over to Remus, who was protected in the same white light.

Percy had never let the demons of hatred and death take over his soul like Fenrir had. Percy kept pure and mated with a pure werewolf.

Fenrir let out one last lonely howl as demons finally took away the rotted corpse of his soul.


	14. Seconds

**Seconds**

Hermione wound back the time-turner, waiting for the hours, minutes and seconds to rush by her and dump her back in the "past". During third year she had used the time-turner to get to multiple courses so she could expand her knowledge in less time. Five years later, she was using the time-turner for a completely different reason.

As time flashed by her – years turning into a decade – she remembered the number one rule of time-turning: do not, for any reason, go back further than a week. Turning back time in months, or even years, will change history and you will be stuck in that time forever.

After the war nothing was the same. Harry went into depression: he locked himself in his room, refused to eat and never slept. He refused medical treatment and Hermione knew he was dying. Ron was distraught over his brother's passing and wouldn't leave his house or stop prattling on about how great George was – which just made George contemplate suicide that much more.

Headmistress McGonagall was trying to rebuild Hogwarts better than it was before Dumbledore died but it was trying and too many people were slowly losing faith in the government and Hogwarts. The Ministry was doing well, thankfully, but no one knew exactly what could be done about the moral of the wizards and how to boost it.

Hermione promised herself it would get better – and she truly believed it. She didn't tell herself false truths so she could deny the reality of situations; she believed truth is knowledge, and a lie is nothing but the apple in Eden's trees.

Hermione had kissed Ron goodbye, made sure Harry was still in a drugged-sleep from the food she barely got him to eat, and then went back to her muggle home. She dug through her old trunks – the ones from school which seemed like hundreds of years ago – and brought back out the time-turner.

She knew what she had to do: turn back time and reverse the death of Lily and James Potter. She knew it was going to be fine, even if she would never see Ron and Harry again like before; she'd be their parents' age and they'd never remember her as their best friend.

She was okay with all that, just to save everyone. Maybe Harry had to deal with this for more than eighteen years, but it was _her _turn to shine now. There was no turning back.


	15. Clairvoyant

**Clairvoyant**

Narcissa was very into fortune telling's. She'd spend thousands of galleons on the _best _physics to be told of different futures and which path she should take and what she should do to live longer and be beautiful forever. Lucius, her husband, was never impressed with her obsession but she ignored his petulant rants of wasting _his_ families' money and driving herself to her grave with this fake fortune telling.

Draco was a confused child because of his parents; his mother told him to believe anything and everything told by anyone clairvoyant. His father told him that it was all hog-wash and that, if anything, he should believe in your pride and nothing else. The young Malfoy heir, of course, followed his father's path. Malfoy did everything to show that his pride was number one, and nothing would change that – pride would triumph.

Narcissa stood over Draco's grave, holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemum's, orange lilies and one tiger lily. Lucius' grave sat next to Draco's, bare of any decoration other than the plain engraving of his name and the dates he had lived.

She told Draco, begged him, to believe the fortune telling of the wandering clairvoyant they met three years after Draco's seventh year at Hogwarts. Narcissa _begged _Draco not to leave on his trip to Canada – cried and argued with him that what the wandering physic said _would _come true. In the end he left, and here she was; alone and slowing dying in her loss. As she laid the flowers on her only sons' grave, she said only one thing before departing from the cemetery.

"I won't disgrace you by saying I told you so."


	16. Rise

**Rise**

Ron was always the pack mule in these situations: he would carry Harry's pride and loyalty through his trials and tribulations until Ronald was left bloody with Harry and Hermione standing along with him, but only _Harry _would get all the attention. He knew he would get something out of it – he was friends with The Boy Who Lived.

He wasn't upset about any of those things though, truly. After the last battle he married Hermione, and they lived a good life with their children. He was happy, for the most part. Sure, sometimes he wanted to rip someone's head off – mostly his children, because they wouldn't listen to his orders but he would let it go when they hurt themselves and his heart would jump to his throat in fright.

It was near the end of his life he realized his true reason for being Harry Potter's friend. It wasn't that he was the pack mule, but the historian. He wrote book after book while he lay dying; most of the novels were things that he wished had happened during his life as Harry's friend, but he never grew enough courage to.

So finally, when he passed away, his grandson took up the challenge of being what his brave grandfather wished to be. He would rise from his low position in magical and muggle society and he would overtake his grandfather's ambitions.

He became the newest, and final, Dark Lord.


	17. Beauty in Youth

**Beauty in Youth**

_[Warnings: extreme violence, do __**NOT**__ read if sensitive]_

She smiled, the bath of blood coagulating around her as she washed her hair and body in it. This is what beauty and youth felt like it. She let out a maniacal laugh, holding a decapitated head in her hand and playing with the ears before moving to the eye sockets that used to hold the most beautiful emerald green eyes and finger the hole where a nose used to sit. She pushed a finger into the mouth, playing with teeth and a useless tongue before removing her fingers and replacing it with her mouth; licking her tongue along the seam of the lips before pushing past the unresisting dead lips, rubbing her soft tongue along the limp and stiff tongue of a dead Harry Potter.

She frowned because she didn't like how he wasn't reacting. Of course Harry loved her; he had told her just before she had cast a strong cutting hex towards him, slicing his head straight off from his neck. He told her while she hung his body upside down, draining the blood from his body through his neck. Her basement still smelled like the rustic smell of blood and the sandalwood he wore as cologne. Ron's body was still draining, and his cologne of pine was almost disgusting compared to Harry's. Of course she had married Ron, but _Harry_ was the one who she loved, and he loved her.

Hermione sat in the bath, letting the blood slowly drain from the tub and stood up. She reached for the towel that Harry's body held; his limp penis the only thing she kept her eyes on. She would get around that, she thought as she brought Harry's head up to hold close to her hand. She heard someone knocking on her door and she smiled, her lips thinning and growing paler as she moved towards the door, fangs popping over her lips.

Oh, Draco did love her so much more and she loved Draco so much . . .

Yes, she would continue to collecting all those who loved her and use their love to keep her young for them. That's what they would want, right?

Opening the door, she struck.


End file.
